


Madness and Entertainment

by Wanderlust_Novadust



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Bloodplay, Drunk Sex, Knifeplay, M/M, Sadomasochism, Threesome, all gay here babyyyyy, big time smutt, drunk threesome, dubcon, super needy jester, uhhhh what else, written in several sessions over the course of a week-ish at 3 - 5 AM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:16:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22304794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wanderlust_Novadust/pseuds/Wanderlust_Novadust
Summary: Cavelier was not often given attention like this, but he fumbled his way into it, and now he had all the attention he could want.
Relationships: Jester/Bounty Hunter, Jester/Leper (Darkest Dungeon), Leper/Bounty Hunter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	Madness and Entertainment

**Author's Note:**

> Like it says in the tags, I wrote this over the course of a few 3 ~ 5 AM sessions on/off for a handful of days? This is the product of that sleepy horny. If things are wonky, that's kinda what I get for writing it at like... Ungodly hours only. Will I update my other fics? Maybe. I've gotta wait for the right mood to grab me for A Horrific Choice, but for now, I might be posting other assorted smut? Who knows for sure anymore, because I sure don't. Might post self insert stuff, since that's most of my recent writing. If you wanna ask me directly about things (or keep up with my art) you can find me on DA/Tumblr under Wanderlust-Novadust.

Alcohol and madness don’t mix very well. The off-putting (yet relatively functional) state Cavelier was normally in was not one in need of liberty. In fact, Cavelier probably had little inhibition, especially in battle. This didn’t matter after the rest escapades, however. Nobody stopped Cavelier from getting drunk off his ass upon returning home. Though the Occultist he’d traveled with said he’d been rather courageous in the face of maddening circumstances—it was apparent that the jester still needed to take a load off.

In more ways than just one.

“And with a whack, a snicker snack, the vorpal son and vorpal sword would go gallumphing back!”

With a bow from the table Cavelier stood on, the song ended. There were drinks raised, laughter shared, and overall: he felt very appreciated. It was as he tried to stand up right and thank the audience that this all went topsy turvy. That is to say: he did.

“Whoa there,” bellowed a recently acquired ‘Man At Arms’ who had to catch the scrawny jester.

“Ahahaha… Whoopsie!”

He set down the smaller man, who not-so-gracefully stumbled and dusted himself off. The soldier offered him a hearty chuckle and a smile as warm as the whiskey left him feeling.

“Maybe you ought to sit down for a minute,” the soldier suggested, gesturing to the seat next to his own.

“Ah? Just for a moment,” Cavelier slurred, plopping onto the stool.

The table was just next to the one he’d almost plummeted off of, so it was no hassle for the soldier to reach over and take what drink Cavelier had left and set it in front of him.

“Many thanks, friend of friends! You are…?”

“Avor,” the soldier replied. “You?”

“Cavelier!”

Someone walked in, drawing Avor’s eye first. Cavelier only looked over when he saw the smile spread across Avor’s face.

“Ah, Grai! Out and about again at last!”

The man coated from head to tow in bandages, ripped fabric, and gold armor sat heavily in the seat across from Avor. He wore even a gold mask, which only revealed his mouth. Cavelier only needed to hear the sigh proceeding his words, however, to know that Grai was exhausted.

“I am, I am. In need of a drink, too.”

“Well! You’ve come to the right place,” Avor said, lively as he’d been since the performance began.

“Who’s the harlequin,” Grai asked, gesturing vaguely to Avor’s left at the dizzy jester.

“Ah! Excellent performer! I met him when he came back from the Coves with a couple of other men.”

“Cavelier,” he chimed.

“Charmed,” Grai said plainly.

“Well, let’s get you that drink!”

Call it the whiskey talking, but Cavelier was in a mood. As the night turned to early pieces of morning, he had a mood strike him. It was as though someone hit him upside the head with his own instrument!

As the bar cleared some, Avor left. Cavelier gathered a key thing (even in his drunken state) from the conversation prior: Grai was awfully depressive. Avor seemed to be his only real friend, and even then, Avor made hints as subtle as falling pieces of ruins at the fact Grai isolated frequently.

Perhaps it was foolishness, perhaps it was the alcohol, or maybe it was another reason madness and drinking don’t mix; but Cavelier did find Grai just a bit charming. The nervousness covered in stoicism, the smile that kicked it out every now and again, and the laugh? Cavelier loved the laughs of the damned, but Grai seemed to need one the most.

Left alone at the table without Avor to metaphorically filter through though: Cavelier was at a loss. A few minutes rolled by of them both awkwardly drinking before Grai set the cup down heavy on the table.

“It’s getting rather late.”

“Oho! I suppose it is,” Cavelier mused.

“I don’t suppose you plan on heading back to the barracks?”

“Where are you off to, friend?”

“Why,” Grai asked in a peculiar tone.

“Because! You seem in need of a companion!”

“Did Avor put you up to this,” was the immediate, groaning response. There was the threads of a chuckle left in it though, as though Grai didn’t entirely mind.

“Oh, pish posh! Did or didn’t, doesn’t matter! I want to!”

Grai seemed to be considering something, but with so much of his face covered, Cavelier couldn’t discern a thing! Grai hummed and thought, and all Cavelier could do was plant his elbows on the tabletop and plop his cheeks into his palms. When a few seconds ran into a handful, Cavelier found himself humming (perhaps a bit impatiently.)

“The brothel, perhaps.”

“Eh?”

“The brothel,” Grai repeated.

“Ah, ah! The brothel, yes,” Cavelier replied hastily. “I see, I see. Well, I suppose I will just have to accompany you!”

Grai was a bit surprised, but Cavelier shot up from his seat and wobbled into a proud, upright stance, as though to demonstrate just how “sober” he was. Grai couldn’t help getting a chuckle out of this, but now he was well aware it was either go to the barracks and have to make small talk with people he doesn’t care about, or go to the brothel. Somewhat embarrassed with himself, Grai got up, far too emotional in a drunken state to be able to tell such a cheerful jester that he just wanted to be left alone.

“To the brothel it is, I suppose.”

With that, they were off. The jester bounded behind Grai’s long strides, though Grai really did have to wonder if skipping was such a good idea while intoxicated. Despite how shaky Cavelier seemed before, he was perfectly fine from the bar to the brothel.

It was less populated than usual, though upon entering, they noticed a Bounty Hunter.

“You have no smaller men, you say?”

“We don’t.”

Grai cocked his head slightly, listening in.

“What is it, what is it,” Cavelier chanted in loud whispers.

“Hush,” Grai replied. “I’m trying to listen.”

“Well, it seems I’ll be on my way then.”

The Bounty Hunter turned, noticing Grai and Cavelier standing near the entrance. Also having his face covered up (though unlike Grai, this hunter had even his mouth hidden,) Cavelier was woefully frustrated with the fact he couldn’t gather a lick of emotion off his expressions.

“Ah, Grai, sorry you had to see that.”

“No worries,” Grai laughed, hoping that Mallory wasn’t going to ask questions.

“Aha! No worries indeed, no worries!”

The hunter fully took in Cavelier’s presence, and seemed to let out a single ‘heh’ of a laugh.

“You say you want smaller men,” Cavelier inquired, curiously stepping over.

Grai found himself internally screaming, knowing exactly what Mallory wanted, and exactly what he’d ask of a drunken jester while in the mood. Oh dear.

“Is there any reason,” Cavelier continued.

“I’ve never been a fan of the built ones who come to do jobs around here,” Mallory said plainly. He began circling Cavelier, who followed him with turns of the head. “I prefer the smaller ones. Softer.”

“Ehe? You fancy yourself some sort of sadist?”

“Perhaps.”

Grai moved over before anything else could come of this. “Cavelier, we ought to leave.”

“Why? What happened? I thought we were coming here to actually do things, not waltz in and waltz out!”

The apologetic face of the woman running the brothel had an underlying tone of humor. It was as though to her, this was just Mallory’s routine. ‘Oh, that rascal,’ she probably thought. ‘Up to one of his schemes to break the heart of another twink.’ Grai was less humorous.

“You? And the jester?”

Grai caught Mallory’s glance, not knowing how to explain himself.

“He insisted on coming along where I was going,” Grai began. “Had I other intentions, I would’ve gone somewhere else.”

“If you aren’t then…”

“Eh?”

Mallory put a hand on the shorter jester’s shoulder, making him jump. Grai saw this coming.

“...You certainly wouldn’t mind?”

“I… Would.”

“I don’t,” Cavelier chimed happily.

“See, he’s happy to accompany me,” Mallory said with the underlying tone of a snicker.

“Mallory,” Grai groaned.

“Grai,” he replied back airily.

Grai scowled, though the expression got a laugh out of Cavelier, the intention was that maybe Mallory would back out.

Apparently, it did not take much convincing to get a drunk and grumpy Grai to follow you into the woods. It took even less to convince him that supervising Mallory and Cavelier was an easy solution to the worry that Mallory knew Grai had: that Cavelier was getting in over his head. It was a strange call, but Cavelier called Mallory’s preference out: he liked twinks because they were (to quote) cuter than more built and brutish types when Mallory involved things like knifeplay (or even just in a general sense.) The way a ‘submissive twink’ fell apart in comparison to anything else just wasn’t enticing enough to Mallory.

So to a still drunk Grai, Mallory’s suggestion and slight coaxing to just supervise from a small distance was all it took. Obviously, if something went further than safe, Grai could hop in. It wasn’t a drastic worry, but Cavelier seemed like the type who (especially while drunk) thought he could just scoop his entrails back into his stomach and be all good in the morning.

And Grai didn’t need Avor asking where their new mutual friend went.

Leaned with his back against a tree, Grai looked further out into the forests.

“Is this really safe,” he asked.

“On the outskirts? Yes. No one will hear us, and nothing will come to attack us. Unless you count bounding rabbits trying to escape the inner parts as attackers.”

“I don’t,” Grai responded flatly.

He slid down the tree into a strange crouch, and from there, cross legged on the ground in a sitting position. Cavelier was giggling at the dry sarcasm, but that was cut off as Mallory skipped a few steps and went right to squeezing Cavelier’s ass. Grai took that (paired with the squeak that followed) as his sign to tune out, turning just a bit away and trying not to focus too hard on them.

Cavelier was also just a tad unfocused, though more for the reason of intoxication than anything else.

“Sly dog,” he moaned with a hint of singing left to his voice.

“Oh, hush. You’ll make me blush,” Mallory said in the teasing way you’d expect.

Before Mallory could do much else though, Cavelier reached up and paws gently over the mask Mallory wore. Mallory cocked his head a bit, Cavelier retracting his hand and sounding a tad bit frustrated in response.

“If we’re going to do anything, at least get all this off your face first!”

“I’d ask you the same,” Mallory chuckled.

“I will, so long as you strip off your masks!”

“Fine, fine.”

It was a small concession to him. Mallory got the mask and wrap off, tossing them gently to the grassy ground afterward. Cavelier was immediately entranced; he was fixed on the scars that make tan marks into his lips and cheeks—the one just close enough to his eye that Cavelier could imagine Mallory’s joy when whatever cut him didn’t take his eye with it’s swing or swipe.

He reached out gently as the equipment fell beside them, rather distracted from the task at hand. Despite Mallory’s own small flinch, he didn’t stop Cavelier from tracing two gloved fingers over the scars cut into his lips. A proud smirk found it’s way on Mallory’s marked face, causing Cavelier to quickly retract his hand.

“If you’re so transfixed by scars, I could give you a few of your own.”

“Really,” Cavelier asked in very legitimate wonder.

“What point would there be in lying to you,” Mallory asked back, reaching now to tug a bit at the thin, white, fabric mask over his face. “Get this off.”

Cavelier took quickly to taking the hat off (mostly out of necessity) and then the mask, setting each gently aside. Firey red locks tumbled out of the hat, green eyes were unveiled, but there wasn’t much that one could call gentle about his appearance. The sharp angles of his face matched well to the cheshire grin he wore once he got it all off. Scarification left him with two tears matching his mask engraved on his cheeks. It wasn’t what Mallory expected, but he was content with it.

“An eye for an eye,” Mallory said, hands traveling back to the harlequin’s hips.

“Doesn’t that supposedly make the whole world blind?”

“Not if you only take one eye,” Mallory retorted, getting to watch Cavelier go red in the face as he slipped up the jester’s shirt some with one hand. Cavelier noticed though that the other hand, though rested against his hip, felt more like a fist than an open palm…?

Then he heard the knife start to cut fabric.

Cavelier’s breath almost caught in his throat, for the second time that night feeling as though someone had struck him over the head with his own instrument. In a single, swift line, the back of his top was cut open.

“Feisty,” he charmed.

Mallory chuckled darkly, bringing the knife to the front now. Cavelier tipped his head back just a bit, eyes locked on the knife as Mallory placed it at the collar… He gasped as he brought it down quick—feeling it cut skin this time. There was the remnants of a yelp that’d been lost in translation left in his staggered sigh, and the red line bubbling over with little dots of blood was a sight for sore eyes to Mallory. The way Cavelier’s brow knit together… That slightly worried, yet quite enthralled expression.

Mallory wanted more.

“You’re going to cut it all off? Really,” he asked, seeing him so quickly bring the knife to his pants. “At least let me get my belt off!”

As Cavelier reached to do it himself, Mallory swatted his hand like a cat swats lazily at a toy. “No, no. Allow me.”

Cavelier’s hand fell to his side after some hesitation, having to turn his head some and direct his gaze anywhere but Mallory. It was quick work, the little tinks and tacks of metal keying Cavelier in, but as that was tossed aside—Mallory still brought the knife back.

“Really,” Cavelier teased with a chuckle. “My pants are patchwork enough.”

“If you so insist…”

“Wait.”

“What is it?”

“Why aren’t you undressed at all yet,” Cavelier asked in whining impatience.

“I’m focusing on you, aren’t I?”

Cavelier huffed a bit, immediately going to kick off his pants. Mallory was too amused by his little requests and such to say anything.

“If you’re so interested in seeing the rest of me, why don’t you take to it, then?”

“Oh?” There was an air of absolute desire to it—an air that Cavelier would like nothing more.

Mallory held his arms out in a form of resignation, snickering with a sense of power that could send shivers down the bodies of lesser men. (Cavelier was one of those lesser men.)

“If you want it that badly, darling.”

Cavelier sprung to it, determined to not be the only one left standing in the forest with only his socks. Especially when there was someone so willing! Though he found as he looked at the armor, he couldn’t make heads nor tails of any of it. Where did it start, where did it end? What was connected to where and when? After a few paces around him, Mallory had to restrain laughter.

“Do you not know how to take off another man’s armor?”

“Do I look like I wear armor,” Cavelier fired back in good humor.

“Fair enough,” Mallory said, figuring he’d at least get the plates off.

Cavelier watched happily as he did, leaving the fabric underneath for his own deciphering. Taking the prior statement of eye to an eye as far as he could, he reaching down his tattered clothes and equipment for the straight dagger he took on expeditions. The look of shock on Mallory’s face was absolutely priceless to Cavelier.

“Well then! Let’s get those off you,” Cavelier practically sang, backing Mallory easily into a tree and placing a hand beside his head for security.

Grai peeked over in time for Mallory’s bewildered sound of surprise as the knife slid languid through the cloth, Cavelier not even seeming to attempt to spare Mallory of a few marks of his own. The red forming and crawling over skin (even from a distance) was a conflicting sight with how often Grai has had to watch someone have Wyrd Reconstruction or blessings applied to them…

In any case, Mallory seemed to share a similar sentiment (or simply dislike the tables being turned against him.) Mallory took Cavelier’s hand with the knife gently by the wrist, moving it aside before he could do anything to his pants. He could feel his skin crawl and wince at the idea of Cavelier nicking anything **important.**

“Why don’t we leave the knife work to me, darling?”

It was a gentle request, not wanting to sound too upset at someone who might’ve been too mad to know better. Especially while intoxicated… Cavelier seemed to consider it for a moment, waiting for Mallory to let go of his wrist. Silently, Cavelier tossed the knife back to his pile of things (ripped and otherwise.)

“Of course, of course! Dear apologies, I’m perhaps too clumsy! Clumsy doesn’t matter in the heat of battle,” Cavelier rattled out with hearty giggles and an overall cheerful tone.

He dropped to his knees as suddenly as he’d pinned Mallory to the tree, earning a jolt and a quick head turn from Grai to make sure he hadn’t been knocked over or something. Sure enough, he was fine. Cavelier was relishing in the drama of it—he really didn’t need to do that to undo Mallory’s belt, but he was at crotch-level this way, and he could tell Mallory enjoyed the eagerness.

It was a bit hard to ignore, what with the bulge being not even two breaths away.

“Eager to get started,” Mallory probed in a tone akin to intoxicating pride.

“Perhaps,” Cavelier piped back in a half embarrassed sqeauk, tossing the belt aside.

Grai’s gaze was drawn back again by the metal clink as the buckle and it’s parts collided with the ground. Was he on edge, or did he just want excuses to sneak a few glances? Perhaps a mixture of both. He stared back out into the forest immediately after, dearly hoping Mallory was right that no deadly creatures would wander out this far.

Cavelier was obviously far less concerned with the danger immediately to his left, deep in the woods and ready to eat an unsuspecting jester without a court. Instead, he was rather focused on Mallory against the tree, and the encouraging hand tangling its fingers into his hair. He glanced up just a moment, but when Mallory pushed forward gently from the back of his head, Cavelier figured this was just the preamble.

That or Mallory didn’t have lubricant on hand, and this was him improvising a half-functional solution. (Cavelier had been through worse, he was sure.)

Mallory was… domineering ( _though that may not be the right way to describe it_ , Cavelier thought. _It’s hardly overbearing, but he seems to be trying to make it very clear who’s in charge! Hah!_ ) This didn’t stop Cavelier from trying to be the best tease someone who’d never given oral before could be! Gently licking at just the tip, hand resting around the base moving now to give all too deliberately slow pumps to accompany it—refusing to move further the first time Mallory nudged his head… The low growl that came out after he refused was enough to break him, half ready to whimper at the fact he wouldn’t be receiving any attention yet.

_Start slow_ , he told himself. There was no reason to choke or vomit all over him (although, for all Cavelier could gather, Mallory might be into something so sadistic.) Just the head at first, and remember to relax. Relaxing was the first step to avoiding the prior. Cavelier had only maybe gotten a quarter of the way before Mallory got a funny little idea, however, and bucked hard right into Cavelier’s mouth. He could feel it hit the back of his throat, and amidst the brief panic, felt Mallory’s grip on his hair tighten significantly.

Mallory was lucky Cavelier didn’t give up easily, because while Cavelier’s gag reflex begged him to stop, he got to the halfway point before placing one hand on Mallory’s hip. He gently pulled at it, trying to urge him to do that again (strangely enticed by the experience of being thrown through a loop.) Mallory just let out a dark chuckle before giving Cavelier exactly what he wanted.

Cavelier didn’t know what he expected; Mallory just kept going from there. Compared to the first thrust from before Cavelier was prepared, these were all gentler, as though Mallory was more concerned with easing him in than he was before. It was as his thrusts got a bit faster, a bit harsher, a bit less careful that Mallory did more than just grunt and groan in low growls of pleasure.

“Aren’t you taking this well? I might just try to keep you around…”

The praise practically made Cavelier’s heart jump, but there were other things that needed attending to. Particularly, the fact that Cavelier at this point was being face fucked and left painfully hard, both hands against the tree for support. Being praised in that low voice with just a bit of a gruff edge to it… He couldn’t ignore himself anymore. His right hand left from the tree, quickly finding it’s way between his legs.

The touch was practically electric, but Cavelier had barely a moment to do anything before Mallory shoved everything he could down Cavelier’s throat in one swift motion, and held himself there. It didn’t just surprise him, but it was also difficult to breathe.

“Now, now. You really think I won’t get around to you? Move your hand.”

The command was something Cavelier would normally spit in the face of, but Mallory was obviously willing to wait here until Cavelier was blue in the face. He moved his hand, wishing he could nod or something to further affirm that he would play by Mallory’s rules. Mallory was satisfied at least with seeing Cavelier put his hand back against the tree, going back to his further, gentler, less immediately suffocating pace.

“That’s a good pet,” Mallory growled.

Oh. That was good. However, Cavelier couldn’t help but wonder how long they’d be doing this. Was Mallory not close? Was Cavelier that easily spent? He would be more embarrassed if he weren’t distracted and moaning with every twitch of the hips, all too much enjoying having his mouth filled.

It was when Mallory’s hand suddenly tensed and Mallory’s hips shuddered in some fashion irregular compared to before that he yanked Cavelier’s head back. Being able to breathe clearly (and constantly) was a relief for the moment. Mallory was more occupied with admiring the dribble of drool and precum running down Cavelier’s chin, the small gasps as Cavelier tried to catch up with lost breath and the red flushing his face.

Grai at this point was debating going over… Mallory and him always had an unspoken _**thing**_ , though how to define it was lost on the both of them. Mallory seemed to think of it as a strange attraction, what with Grai being the only thing built with muscle he seemed to want to fuck and fill. Grai personally saw it more as confused romance mixed with sexual tension neither of them wanted to follow up on for their own personal hangups. The answer probably lay more in Grai being conflicted over Mallory’s penchant for knifeplay and blood, but only Mallory acknowledged that as a valid idea.

With all this in mind, Grai watched Mallory and Cavelier trade places, trying to quickly decide if he should stay, if he should go, if he should join? It was when he saw the flash of moonlight on metal that Grai stood up, Cavelier bent against the tree and all too willing to be marked, apparently.

“Mallory, you better not be planning long-term damage. The heir might need him.”

Mallory looked over, seeming amused by the fact Grai spoke up. “Oh? Like he won’t be sore anyway.”

“Mallory,” Grai groaned.

“Grai,” Mallory piped back, just like before.

Grai sighed heavily, stomping over and unwrapping the somewhat tattered excuse for a poncho he wore. Mallory was a bit surprised, but it was a pleasant surprise. Cavelier looked back in confusion, catching over his shoulder Grai stripping off the front plate of his armor.

“Oh? I’d normally think three’s a crowd, but two men might just be what I need!”

Grai would… Mentally address the swing in attitude Cavelier apparently took on when he was aroused later. For now, Mallory was wandering over, expression strangely soft as he wordlessly offered to help Grai with his attire, hand lingering over the leather he wore under the golden plate. Grai simply nodded, looking away as Mallory made swift work of everything but Grai’s boots.

“Leaving my boots,” Grai inquired.

“You think I want anyone here stepping on thorns or twigs? I’m a sadist, not a monster.”

Grai laughed weakly, often confused about where the two really separated into their own categories. Pushing that aside, Cavelier moved back to being upright, shooting an impatient glare at the pair of more built men.

“Well? Who’s going to make an erotica out of me? Nothing’s happening with you two exchanging longing looks and quips!”

Mallory couldn’t stop himself from laughing, the apologetic smile and chuckle leaking out of Grai as he came over to direct Cavelier. This direction really just came in getting Cavelier on his hands and knees, hoping to inspire a more tender atmosphere with the gentle guidance. Cavelier certainly dropped the impatience once he that he was finally going to be getting attention, and the tenderness came across, leaving him strangely flustered. The contrast between the two men left him a tad addled, but then he was shot back to the present as Grai got to his knees in front of him.

It was just after Cavelier left a kiss on the tip of Grai’s cock that he heard the shuffle of Mallory getting ready behind him. The prod against his ass was encouraging, but so was the cold iron of the blade gliding gently over his back… Not yet being pressed hard enough to cut flesh. Cavelier opened his mouth, ready to get thoroughly skull fucked again, though not complaining when Grai began rather gently and not pushing very far. Mallory seemed to be watching, waiting a moment before starting to enter from his own end.

What was once hushed arousal became trailing moans somewhat muffled by Grai’s dick. The gentle hand stroking through his hair was the perfect comfort to the initial pain from Mallory, but the second distraction was when Cavelier felt the knife press to his back… Mallory swiftly brought it across in a small swipe, eliciting a far louder and more sudden cry from Cavelier. Worry briefly crossed Grai’s mind, eyes flickering first from the wound to Cavelier’s face, hoping to gauge the reaction. The cut wasn’t deep enough to warrant panic, however, and the way Cavelier shuddered with his eyes rolling back before he could straighten back out… For a moment, Grai understood why Mallory had a penchant for sadism.

Mallory kept leaving marks until he’d pushed all the way in, and Grai noticed as it continued that he was quite obviously carving his name into Cavelier. While normally Grai would worry about someone seeing, Cavelier was normally clothed head to toe, so it’s not as though anyone would have the chance. He simply kept his gentle pace, albeit not pushing into Cavelier’s throat. Things were escalating a bit quicker than Grai expected on his own end, though he didn’t mind much.

It was as Mallory started to move as well that Cavelier’s spikes in volume became a consistent, needy stream of suppressed mewls and moans. Mallory was just finishing the second ‘l’ of his name when he shot up a glance to Grai. He had a cheeky smirk plastered over his face, maintaining eye contact as he broke pace to thrust sharply into Cavelier. It was very obvious what he hit, Cavelier’s hips twitching in an involuntary moment’s shudder, Mallory’s hand coming down to keep him steady. Grai didn’t know if it was a threat or a promise.

He found himself transfixed as Mallory finished writing his name, throwing the knife aside as the blood oozed out over Cavelier’s lower back. Having a hand to spare, Mallory finally gave Cavelier the grace of contact. Cavelier practically jumped when he felt Mallory grab his cock—almost overwhelmed as he started pumping in time to his own rhythm.

Grai was finding it harder and harder to keep things gentle. He couldn’t help himself at this point! His hand was still traveling through Cavelier’s hair though, soft strokes through the long locks as a means of praise.

“You’re doing absolutely wonderful,” Grai muttered in hushed moans. “Just a bit longer for me.”

Grai couldn’t have been telling the truth more, taking hold of some of Cavelier’s hair in a loose fist as he picked up the pace a last time. Cavelier made a confused sound, though it was lost immediately thereafter to moans from all the stimulation he was getting on both ends. Grai quickly fell apart, holding Cavelier’s head in place as he pushed in as far as he could.

Yes, it burned, but in the moment, it didn’t hurt as badly as maybe it should have. Cavelier’s head was swimming with the (albeit dying) effects of alcohol and (the very alive) flood of pleasure with every whip-like crack of Mallory’s hips and hand. Grai let Cavelier’s hair go and moved away only to see a bit of his own cum leak out Cavelier’s nose. He would ask one of the plague doctors at the barracks how that happened later…

Despite the pain, Cavelier was unfazed. Mallory looked up, having been a bit too caught up in the moment to realize Grai had finished. Grai looked away sheepishly, earning an amused grin from Mallory.

“Done already? You’re still free to watch,” he managed among grunts.

“Done already,” Grai parroted in a mildly embarrassed response.

“If you would still like a part,” Mallory said as he came to a halt, cock to the hilt inside the jester. “We could always move around some.”

Grai cocked a brow, curious. Mallory’s hand slowly eased to not moving anymore, earning a whimper from Cavelier.

“What are you implying?”

Mallory pulled out, Cavelier looking back over his shoulder as he stood up. Before he could ask questions, Mallory yanked him up too, not-so-gently slamming back into him. The shuddering moan and sigh it earned was a good enough sign, Mallory decided, though he did have to put an arm firmly around Cavelier’s chest to hold him upright.

Grai’s eyes traced over the position for a moment, and it clicked a few moments in. He simply nodded, getting on his knees again for very different reasons this time. Cavelier happily took the attention, drawn out mewl showing his appreciation as Grai skipped any teasing and got right to taking his cock to the base in his mouth. It was impressive, but in the moment, Cavelier didn’t have the mind to admire that. All he knew was that Mallory started moving and was pressing oh-so nicely into the perfect spot, and Grai was moving and sucking him off so nicely…

He didn’t know how he wasn’t already spent, but with how Mallory seemed to be kicking up, he figured he may be last. Sure enough, a few uneven and ravaging thrusts later, and his hips collided with Cavelier, even throwing Grai off as he was pushed a twitch forward suddenly. The shuddering growl that eased out of Mallory as warm cum poured into Cavelier was enough to make Grai wish he’d been the one in the middle.

Mallory slumped back against the tree just after pulling out, taking Cavelier with him. The constant displaced movement was getting on Grai’s nerves, but he shuffled forward and compensated quickly. Mallory was still watching, one eye closed, and the other half lidded and focused on Grai. Cavelier seemed to calm for a moment, but he picked back up into mewling and moaning soon after. His hips tried to buck weakly, and Grai was glad for the apparent exhaustion softening the attempt. Cavelier pawed in fumbles at the back of Grai’s head, wishing to give Grai the same treatment he’d been served, and Grai obliged to an extent, letting Cavelier finish in his mouth. The way he tensed and twitched, soft cries as he rode out the high…

Grai would pay for the image.

Cavelier’s cock came out with a soft pop, Grai having swallowed all he was given. Mallory’s eye followed him as he stood, using his thumb to gently wipe away some of what leaked from Cavelier’s nose. Cavelier softly giggled in response, seeming absolutely out of it.

“Is he going to be able to stand?”

“Let’s find out,” Mallory mumbled.

He let go of Cavelier and watched him tumble to the ground.

“Hm. ‘S’pose not.”

Grai huffed and leaned down, scooping up the heap of exhausted jester with a tired chuckle. He tried to shoot Mallory a scolding glare, but it came across more like someone trying not to laugh at a joke. Mallory smirked right back.

“We ought to bandage him,” Grai started, sitting Cavelier upright. He cooperated, muttering in agreement.

“Do we really need to? I did hardly the damage I do to others.”

“It’ll keep anything out of the wounds,” Grai retorted.

“Well, when you’re right, you’re right. You have any,” Mallory asked as he sat by Grai.

Grai fumbled through his discarded things before pulling aside the bandages that he was supposed to use on his next change.

“I do now,” he said.

Cavelier gladly let himself be bandaged, finding himself relishing in being taken care of. Grai was the one to scoop him up again, after they all got as dressed as they could. Grai ended up having Mallory score them a blanket from the Hamlet before Grai took Cavelier back to the barracks, wrapped up to avoid being naked from the waist up.

Hopefully Avor wouldn’t ask Grai ever why Cavelier was sore and walked funny for a bit. With the treatment Mallory gave him, Grai assumed it’d be a rough bit of recovery.


End file.
